To
her hitherto the world had meant Lashnagar, Pitleathy and Carlossie.
She had never been as far as Edinburgh. She had lived in a world of
friends--a world that knew her, barefoot and hungry as she was, for the
last of the Lashcairns, a world that had open doors for her everywhere.
And Aunt Janet knew about as much of life outside the wall that held her
own smouldering personality as Marcella knew.
It was only years afterwards that Marcella wondered where her aunt got
the money to buy her the clothes that came from Edinburgh--not many of
them, but things severely plain and severely expensive. She knew that
the man from Christy's came again--she knew that two great oak chests,
one from the landing and one from her mother's room, went away. Later
she missed the old weapons that used to be in the armoury at the old
grey house and that had lain in her father's bedroom where he could see
them ever since they came to the farm--great-swords and dirks and
battle-axes--that had rung out a clear message of defiance on many a
battlefield. But she did not associate their going with her own until
she was out in mid-ocean, and then she felt sickened to think what it
must have cost Aunt Janet to part from them.
In the midst of her preparations Jean told her one day that she was
going away soon.
"Going away?" she cried.
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